Photo: Diego Fernandes 2009
I used to carry pictures each of my siblings in a wallet
And showed them with pride to my fellow travelers
There is the oldest this one is the middle
That one our youngest member of the tribe
I don’t carry a wallet anymore or pictures
Season my Grandmother called those special papers
I discovered early on wallets accumulated stuff
So much became unreadable and indecipherable
And sitting on my siblings just seemed wrong
But sometimes I wonder whether pitching the pics
Destroyed a something in the living maybe
Somehow I threw a something away I shouldn’t have
There is no comfort in comforting my turmoil
Just sit quietly and listen with everything you’ve got
My beautiful intelligent sister still beautiful still intelligent
Lives in an idea world from a land of fantastic otherwhere
Some mind authority told me we could give her drugs
Another said you have a right to be mentally ill
Eyes of the lay just dim with incomprehension
Have you seen anyone they all inquire they all ask
What to do what to do what to do a jazz song sings
On foggy days in foggy old towns all upon a foggy night
You need to pay you need to pray you need to let go
You need a miracle you need god on your side
Sighing and giving a retelling of the tale told and told
Went here went there went here and there again
Talked to Dr.X Dr.Y Dr.Z M.D. PhD. D.D. LL.D MFCC see?
First it was sympathy and roses then U.S. dollars
It was kind of fun to see all those alphabeted people smile
The same kind of knowing well well well grin lean in
With the all-knowledgeable looks gravely visaged
Nodding heads all with deep voiced ‘very sad indeeds’
Then came the international internet research buttons
Looking for a magic pill a magic cure a spell
To wave at my sister up and down bibbity bobbity
A guardian angel winged fairy complete with wand
The mystery in the ruin of minds is mesmeric
Those demon guarded intellects draw weaponless knights
From across immense galactic divides to battle
But for the present those fiendish spirits prevail
2 comments:
I have a bad habit of being over analytical.
A poem is to be enjoyed – and I truly enjoy your writing – not to be analyzed.
So I will comment on your blog instead:
You should engage your readers when they comment on your writing.
Blogging is more of a social thing than a stage for creativity.
Try to develop friendships with the people you interact.
You have a lot to offer :)
This made my cry--enough to get up and get a kleenex.
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